


Lightsword

by esama



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-26 16:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12561832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: In which Cloud Strife reincarnates as Obi-Wan Kenobi





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written to prompts on Tumblr.  
> Unbetaed

  1. **Swords**



Obi-Wan Kenobi is six when he starts remembering.

The memories start coming back when he touches a lightsaber for the first time and thinks, _this doesn't feel right_.

Lightsaber doesn't fit his hand right – the grip is all wrong. Because of all the technology that goes into making them, the Lightsaber handles are rarely smooth and even more rarely can you fit them in proper two handed grip nicely – there's always something digging into your palm weirdly. Activator, blade controller, power switch, stabiliser – every blade is different, even the training sabres are all different, and they just…

They just don't seem to be created for a comfortable grip, which makes no sense to him at first – not until later, when he's seen more of them, seen knights handling their own blades, made by themselves to fit their own hands _specifically_. Lightsabers as whole aren't supposed to fit into just anyone's hands. They're made to fit just _one_ person's hand.

But that's just the start, the awkward grip he searches along the cylinder is just the start. The blade, the weight, the heft – all of it's _off_. And it only gets worse when you activate the thing.

Lightsaber blades don't have a weight, none at all. They have an angle of _preferred_ motion – the way the plasma core spins guides the blade subtly that certain way – and they have a sense of resistance, if a very minute one. A lightsaber blade doesn't split the air, doesn't part it in its way, no – it burns it. That creates a sort of drag against the blade as it pushes against air, scoring its way through it. It's barely strong enough to be felt, but it's there.

But the blade has no weight. It's _weightless_. And because of that, it doesn't… move like a sword should. You can't spin a lightsaber by the momentum of its blade, you can't use its weight to enforce your swings, nothing. The only weight in the thing is in the handle – and it's usually not much.

So, to use a lightsaber is less like using a _saber_ and more like… more like fighting with a deadly torch with short beam of light that burns through _everything_. It's wrong, wrong, wrong, and not at all like how sword should be.

The first memories Obi-Wan regains are about swords, holding then, swinging them, being guided by their weight and using their heft to his advantage. Most of the time, it was the very _weight_ that was the most useful part of a sword to him. He barely needed to even sharpen them, they were so big and so heavy that it didn't matter if they had a cutting edge – they were going through whatever they hit by the force of their heft alone.

Those swords couldn't melt their way through solid meter of reinforced steel and concrete though, or reflect laser bolts and yeah, they didn't emit their own handy light, so… Lightsabers definitely have their benefits.

* * *

 

  1. **Force**



He's been told about the Force all his life, he _knows_ what it is. It is the ethereal, all encompassing, all unifying Force of the Universe, that binds all things together. They're supposed to feel it and trust it and let the Will of the Force guide them. One day, once they were older and better trained and had meditated enough, they would be able to control it.

"But remember, younglings, that the Force is your ally, not your servant," the Crèche Masters tell them. "Believe in the Force and trust the Force and use the Force – but do not for one moment think that you are its Master. For the Force is Eternal. It has been here since before us, and it will remain long after all of are gone."

So yeah, he knows what the Force is.  But it doesn't click until one of the elder Masters of the Jedi High Council dies and they're told, _"Mourn not, children. She's one with the Force now."_

Ah, Obi-Wan thinks. She's joined the Lifestream, then.

And that makes more sense to him than that the Force just… is, and always has been. Everything comes from somewhere – the universe came from something, so the Force had do too, right? Lifestream is what makes life and what enables life – but it was also made by life, and that works better in Obi-Wan's head than just… eternal field of energy that appeared from nowhere.

No, to him the Force came from life. The Crèche masters tell them about the Creation of Life from simple beginnings – the right chemical conditions that bonded molecules together to amino acids which formed eventually into single cell organisms, and so on and so on. Those, Obi-Wan thinks, started the Force. Living things, gaining life – and dying, letting their life forces roam loose.

It even sounds like. Their currently universal field of Force came from the life forces of living things. It fits perfectly, he thinks. And it makes sense that it's _everywhere now_ and not just circling around one little planet, because life is everywhere now, so, the Force would be too. Where ever people die, Lifestream flows and gives life – and makes Force. It just makes _sense_.

The first time he says "Force is the energy field created by all living things," in answer to a Crèche Master's question, he gets such a talking to, which on other doesn't make any sense at all.

* * *

 

  1. **Hair**



There aren't many mirrors in the Jedi Temple, especially not in the Crèches. They're just not that necessary for the Jedi, Obi-Wan thinks, since they can feel things with the Force they don't really need to see their own reflections to know… stuff about themselves. Most can probably shave without ever needing to look at themselves. It makes sense.

What doesn't make sense is his own reflection, the first time he sees it. He thinks it's the first time he sees it anyway – at least, he can't remember having seen himself. And he would remember, because he looks – wrong.

His hair is shorter than it should be, cut close to his head – it stands on its end, upright and uniform, the same as every other human's hair does in the Crèche. The initiate cut, he thinks, but somehow he had never thought about what it would look on him, this close cropped hair. And the colour is wrong.

He's… kind of ginger, which he really hadn't been expecting. Somehow he'd always imagined himself as blond. Bright blond, with his hair longer in the front, slanting slightly to the right, framing his face in longer bangs. That was somehow the mental image he had of himself, even though he'd never actually seen it.

"Strange," he mutters and scrubs his hands through his hair, confused. It feels the same as it always has, and yet now it feels wrong.

"What is it?" Bant asks, from where she's adjusting her tunics – her new tunics. The reason they've gotten the chance to see themselves is because they're being fitted for tabards, finally – something they'd all been looking forward to.

"I don't know. I guess. I don't know," Obi-Wan says. "I thought my hair was lighter, I guess."

"Like Bruck's?" she asks with a laugh.

Obi-Wan makes a face. Bruck has white hair. In certain light, it looks a bit like silver. "No," he says slowly. "Not at all like Bruck's."

Bant laughs and turns back to her mirror, to adjust her tabards while Obi-Wan does the same, uneasily. Another thing that's a bit off, he thinks.

He's all in sandy colours. Light brown and beige and dirty white. All he's ever worn has been in those colours, and he's always known it, he can see his own clothes after all even if he can't see his own face. Yet he'd never really _thought_ about that either. Like he'd assumed that his hair was longer and blond, he'd somehow assumed his clothes were darker and not so… sandy coloured.

It's all a little wrong somehow, he thinks, tugging at the wide sleeves of his under tunic, missing the feeling of air on his shoulders and the light tug of a ribbon around his bicep – even though he doesn't think he's ever actually felt it.

Well, at least his eyes are still blue.

* * *

 

  1. **Comrades**



He dreams of them sometimes.

A woman with long brown hair, who stands surrounded by a field of flowers, glowing in the endless, full void of the Lifestream. She holds out her arms and hugs him and welcomes him in – and then pushes him away, smiling mischievously as he falls down and down and

There's another woman, shorter haired with red brown eyes who smiles and it looks a little pained. She stands beside him and sometimes holds his hand, and she's taller than Obi-Wan is at that age, but he's about her height and they stand as equals until finally he turns away and

A man like a mountain, dark and grinning with lunatic mirth, with metal arm and ferocity to take on the world. He pats him on the back almost hard enough to send him falling over and curses and cusses him out and then holds out his hand to pull him up and

A girl who grows into a woman who grows into a princess and queen and empress and is still a little girl at heart, sneaking fingers into his pockets, running away with his Materia. She laughs and jokes and bends over double with motion sickness that makes him nostalgically sympathetic and then she looks up and winks and

There's a toy cat, bouncing excitedly from one foot to another and then jumping into the arms of a man, neatly trimmed and smiling as he steps forward, and takes over. He's well meaning and thinks he can make a difference and he probably knows his chances of failure but he's still going to try because he's done bad things in service of bad men and wants to do better now and

There's a blond man, cursing around a half burned cigarette he doesn't light anymore, pointing fingers and making grand gestures and refusing, refusing to care – and caring regardless. He takes them to the sky and throws an arm around his shoulders and tells him to be better, he's their leader, he gotta be strong now and

A man, dark haired and half hidden in shadows, peering at him from beneath curtain of hair and the rise of a high collar, expression hidden. He says nothing but his eyes see everything and he judges without making an comment and something about it all makes Obi-Wan want to hunch and stand straighter all at once but he never accuses him of everything and

There's the woman again, long brown hair and green eyes and all, and beside her a man with spiky dark hair and glowing purple eyes and they're both holding their hands out to him, pulling him in – pushing him away.

Obi-Wan thinks he could probably put names to all of these people. Names and histories and meanings and lifetimes spent knowing them, and regretting them. They're all dead now, he thinks. Part of the Lifestream.

The Jedi temple teaches them to take their emotions and release them into the Force – but these ones Obi-Wan holds close to his chest, and keeps.

* * *

 

  1. **Children**



They are so young.

It strikes him occasionally while they're standing around in the training salle, swinging about their training sabers. Little kids, younger than he'd been when he left home. Six, seven, eight, nine, they're all so very young – and their Crèche masters are teaching them how to fight with laser swords that can cut through damn near everything.

Lightsabers are still weird weapons to him – but they're also one of the most dangerous type of weapons he's ever used. And he's been taught in using them since he was six – as has everyone else in his Crèche, in the whole temple. And it just… it just dawns on him, time and time again, how young they are, being taught all this.

And it's not just the lightsabers, though that's the thing he wakes up to first. It's also the lessons, the training sessions, the group meditations, the mantras. Sometimes Obi-Wan just… stops in middle of it all and he looks around himself to the faces of all these kids, how they hum through their meditation, their little faces blank as they try to achieve state of emotionlessness and it just…

He thinks to a boy, and a little girl, crowding around his knees and looking up to him pleadingly, _Cloud please won't you stay a little longer_ and then the open joy and relief when he promised, yes, alright, just for a little while. That honest, carefree emotion that only children are capable, the type he'd lost somewhere in that green _poison_ he'd been drowned in so many times and he'd been jealous, sometimes, how easy it was for them to smile and laugh and just _enjoy_ being.

Now he sits among these children as they are taught to be wary of emotion and release their joy into the Force before it would become too much, before it became too overwhelming. They should be calm, they should be balanced – they should not let their emotions run rampant. Peace and harmony.

They are all dressed the same, Obi-Wan noticed, the same dirty white tunics and sandy brown tabards and soft soled boots and trousers. They're expected to act the same, to be attentive and polite and to bow their heads to their Masters and learn and trust the Force. And then they're taught to fight the same, with the same weapons, all with lightsabers.

One day, some of them – hopefully most of them would become Knights in the Jedi Order and they would be the Protectors of Peace in the galaxy.

They're kids, no older than nine, ten, eleven, and they've been on this track since any one of them could remember.

Slowly, Obi-Wan starts to wonder about it.

* * *

 

  1. **Rebellion**



"Much in your mind you have, Obi-Wan," Grandmaster Yoda says, walking around the child sitting on his knees on the floor. "Many thoughts, straying in your head they are. Uneasy they feel and uneasy they make you. Share them with me you will."

Obi-Wan chews at his lip and looks down to his hands. "I don't really know," he says, opening his palms and closing them, opening and closing. They look small. "I feel weird, Master Yoda."

"Anxious," Yoda says slowly with a nod. "Confused and uncertain. Listen in your lessons you do, but question the material you do. Strange katas you use during training."

The boy says nothing for a moment, thinking of swords and blond hair and friends he's never met but knows he's lost long time ago – he thinks of Lifestream and becoming part of it and then being separated from it by gentle smiles and softly pushing hands, _Go, Cloudy, go and find happiness._

"Master Yoda, do you think reincarnation is possible?" Obi-Wan asks, looking up.

The Grandmaster's ears lift a little, perking up as his expressions goes from surprised to interested and then contemplative. "Proof of it there is little of – but many stories there are. Visions of past Jedi sometimes see," he says and gives Obi-Wan a perceptive look. "Visions of a past not your own you have seen?"

"Not really seen, it's just…" just that his body feels too small and he feels too young and Force isn't much like Magic, but it's lot like it at the same time – it feels like whisper of Mako in his veins, but nothing like it. Except Magic isn't real and Mako isn't a thing he's ever been able to find anywhere in the Temple records, and they're supposed to be the oldest in the galaxy.

"Sometimes it feels like I'm somebody else," Obi-Wan says and looks at his hands. "Like this body is – off. And the katas – those are sword forms," he says. "For actual blades. I remember using them, sometimes." He remembers _developing them_ because there had been no one around to teach him, and then perfecting them in thousand trials by fire, scraping his way to the title of the Most Renown Swordsman of the Planet by bloody fingers and aching feet.

"Hmm," Yoda says and strokes his chin. "When die we do, our sentience we do not retain," he says then. "Oh, stories there are of people who have remained – but no proof there is. Join the Force we do, and our knowledge part of the Force becomes. Our individuality and memories, our spirits… combine with the Force of the Universe."

Obi-Wan frowns a little at that, lowering his eyes. Yes, he thinks. But also no. Some remain. Aerith remained. He remained.

The Grandmaster gives him a look. "But think you do that someone else you are."

"That I – was," Obi-Wan says and looks up. "Before I was reborn as Obi-Wan, I was –"

Yoda lifts his hand to stall him and sighs. "Meditate on this you must," he says. "And search your visions you must. But detach from their intimacy you must. Visions of the past you might be seeing, yes, unheard of it is not. Strong in the Unifying Force you are, and far to the past the Unifying Force may reach. But lead you astray these visions may, if too strong a faith you put on them, and let them confuse you mustn't. Obi-Wan Kenobi you are. Jedi initiate you are. _Here_ you are, _now_ you are. To here and now you should concentrate."

Obi-Wan opens his mouth with a strange sense of betrayal and then looks down again, frowning.

"Peace, young initiate," Yoda says and reaches over to pat his shoulder. "Visions come, visions go, and from them wisdom we may learn. Strong your gift may be, but in the present you live – not in whatever past you see."

"But," Obi-Wan says and then sighs, lowering his eyes. But he wanted to remember more, he wants to say, but can't.

Yoda is probably right. He should concentrate on the now. On being Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Jedi initiate, hopefully one day a Padawan, hopefully one day a Knight. That is his present, leading to his future, that he should pursue.

And yet, somewhere within the ancient spirit of Cloud Strife rebels against it.

"I will meditate more," Obi-Wan says, dissatisfied, and bows his head. "Thank you, Master."

"Bah," the Grandmaster says and pats his knee gently with his stick. "Now come," he says. "Those sword forms you speak of, see them I wish."

"Master?" Obi-Wan asks, surprised and confused. "But you just said –"

"Learn from visions we should, and curious I am," the Grandmaster says. "Come, come, show me you will your sword forms. Perhaps wisdom from them we can glean."

* * *

 

  1. **Force Ghost**



Qui-Gon is in deep meditation, a first change he's had to unwind after a long mission, when the youngling initiate wanders into his field of view. Perhaps ten or so years of age, he has short ginger hair and the simple initiate's clothes, and all around he looks no different most other initiates Qui-Gon has seen over the years.

As he watches, paying only half attention to the child, the boy wanders around the grassy paths of Room of Thousand Fountains until he makes his way to one of the fountains and kneels down by the edge, where a ring of stones separates the water from the grass. Amusedly Qui-Gon wonders if intending to go for a sneaky swim, but the boy simply sits by the edge on his knees, reaching out to touch the water.

"It's not right," the boy mutters and looks at his wet hand like it's disappointed him. "It's not the right one."

Perhaps he'd run into a particularly pleasing fountain, most likely one of the heated ones, but now can't find it. Qui-Gon's meditation teeters on the edge of collapse as he wonders if he should help the boy on his way, to the section of the Room where the heated fountains were. It was technically not allowed to swim in the fountains of the grand meditation room – but _technically_ it wasn't forbidden.

Some of his fondest memories from his own initiate years were from these rooms, from sneaking in with Tahl for a swim. He'd hate to deprive the child of such memories.

The boy is settling down to sit cross-legged by the water now though, it looks like he might be trying for a spot of meditation so… Qui-Gon lets it go and sinks back into his own meditation. No doubt the boy would find his pool later. There's nothing quite as resilient and stubborn as a little initiate Jedi on a quest, after all.

Qui-Gon's mind sinks deeper into the flow of the Living Force all around him, and slowly the boy fades from his mind and thoughts and he evens out into peaceful harmony with his surroundings

There's a giggle. Not the boy's giggle – this is the voice of a woman, and it echoes strangely.

" _I'm sorry, little Cloud_ ," she says. " _That pool is long gone now_."

Qui-Gon tilts his head a little. The words seem to echo in his head, resonating in the Force itself, more vibrations in the currents than actual _audible words_. It trembles his concentration and he opens his eyes.

The boy is there sitting straight packed by the water and he's alone – except he isn't.

Qui-Gon can't _see_ anything – but he can almost feel.

"Why?" the boy sighs.

" _Time_ ," the woman's voice answers with an agreeing sigh. " _Quite a bit of time, now. It changes everything. That pond dried, that world died, and universe was set ablaze with her life. I miss it too, but it's not so bad, now_."

The words are coming nowhere and everywhere all at once, and the boy is looking up at nothing in front of him – the air above the pond's still surface. The boy says nothing for a long while.

The woman's voice chuckles. " _Oh, look at you – you're adorable_ ," she laughs and it feels as though she – shifts. " _Are you happy yet_?"

"I don't know," the boy says quietly. "Just confused mostly."

" _You'll get there_ ," the woman says gently. " _And I'll be right here, watching you every step of the way… my dear little rain Cloud…_ "

Her voice fades and what little presence she had slips away and the boy bows his head, falling silent. Qui-Gon blinks at the boy's back, his head echoing with the strange female voice which seems to resonate endlessly and then fades, leaving behind a strange void.

The boy stands after a moment and turns away, looking thoughtful and dissatisfied and content all at once – and then Qui-Gon is alone, staring at the pond, wondering if he perhaps imagined the whole thing. Certainly he hadn't just heard an ethereal voice resonating in the very Force itself… had he? No, that's impossible.

He really must be more tired after his mission than he thought.

Later in the grounds around that pond, iridescent white lilies begin to grow.

* * *

 

  1. **Kyber Crystals**



Obi-Wan is eleven when he's taken with his Crèche mates for a Gathering, the greatest test and honour of a Jedi initiate according to the elder Padawan who takes them. To visit one of the sacred world where Jedi's Kyber Crystals are found… and to build their own lightsabers.

He both has and hasn't been looking forward to it. After four years of lightsaber practice, after many trials with many training sabres, he's still not found one that fits his hand. Always they are too thick or too thin, too short or too long, their activators dig to the side of his hand or their choke points are too open or…

Nothing fit. There'd been a time he could pick up any weapon – any sword – and it would fit his hand like they'd been made for it – or rather… that had had been made for any sword. Not anymore, though. It's not just the handles either. It's the lightsabers itself.

They don't fit him. He misses a weight that's not there; he misses a momentum you can't get out of a weightless blade. Even now, after years of Yoda and other masters trying to train it out of him, he searches for a ballast in his blade – and it's not there.

Maybe now… he can make one that fits.

It's the first time he's left Coruscant. The way to Ilum is short and long – it seems to take forever but it's over before any of them is really ready. And then they land on Ilum. There, the winds of the icy world blow them side ways while Padawan Du Crion leads them within the sacred caverns of Ilum and there, to Master Yoda.

"Heart of the lightsaber the crystal is," the old troll tells them. "Focuses the Force from the Jedi it does. Find your crystal you now must, and around it your lightsaber you shall build. Enter the crystal caves, you now will."

It all reminds Obi-Wan of – of home and last stands, of ice on great crater and Mako coursing through the Planet as it slowly freezes. The entire crystal cave is made of _ice_ and there's no kyber crystals in sight, just ice and ice and more ice, carved into great pillars and long smooth corridors and –

 _Yo, Spiky_ , a voice in the back of his head whispers, rough and warm and familiar. _This way. I got a nice one for you, it'll make a damn fine blade._

 _No, no, no, come this way, I found the right one,_ another voice, younger, female. _It's the prettiest of the lot!_

 _No, fuck that noise, I got the right one,_ another male voice, rougher, spoken as if around something in his teeth. _I got the best one, prime quality crystal._

 _Nah, ye come this way, laddie, we got yer crystal for ye right here,_ a high, somewhat genderless voice, followed by a man's, chuckling. _Yes, we did indeed find you a crystal too._

 _This way,_ A male voice, deep baritone, calm. _Come_.

A laugh. _I got one too, Cloud,_ a female, amused, fond. _Seems like we all did._

One by one, Cloud picks all of them up. The first crystal is deep, deep blue, almost black, and feels heavy in his hand – the core, he thinks, strong and sturdy. Then there is a much lighter, smaller crystal, lighter blue – sidewinder, slim and quick. The next one is sidewinder too, it'll fit well to the other one. Then the first back blade, to fit along the core, the backbone of his blade – and another beside it. And finally the cleaver to fit on front, right where she belongs. Each one different. Each one part of the whole.

Six crystals. Cloud doesn't need to even check the records to know it's unheard of. But he knows they're right – he knows he can't leave any single one of them behind.

"Show me you must, Obi-Wan," Yoda says, after peering at the crystals presented by the other initiates. It takes Cloud a moment to realise he's talking to him – he's Obi-Wan. That's his name.

"Master," Obi-Wan says and kneels down. "I uh…"

He holds out his hands, shows the six crystals sitting in his palms.

"Hrhmm," the Grandmaster says while the other initiates stare and Padawan Du Crion takes a sharp  breath. Yoda waves a hand over the crystals and hums even deeper. "Unusual this is. Most unusual," he says. "But resonate the crystals do with you."

"That's impossible," Padawan Du Crion says. "He's human – he's only got two hands. What would he do with _six_ lightsabers?"

"I make _one whole_ ," Obi-Wan says, and smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

  1. **Eyes**



Huyang has been helping young Jedi make their lightsabers for longer than the Jedi Order had been, indeed, a Jedi order. In that time he had seen thousands upon thousands of Lightsabers, and he can remember each one perfectly, down to the last micrometer. He's seen, what he assumes, is every grip designs from the shorter shoto blades to the longer, thicker lightclubs and just about everything in between. He's seen activators by the thousands, power packs enough to line a small world with; he's seen hilt designs so beautiful they brought their makers to tears…

He's never seen what this youngling is constructing.

"It is not unusual for initiate to come along with multiple crystals," Huyang muses, stroking his faceplate's chin – an old quirk picked from an old Jedi Master, long ago. "The last would have been – ah, young Pong Krell, he came back with four and made four very fine lightclubs for himself. But six…"

And for a human, too. Outwardly not very remarkable young human, but you can never quite tell how remarkable someone is, outwardly.

"Can it be done, though?" the boy asks. "The blades combining, can it be done?"

"Hmm," Huyang answers, peering at him. There's a spark of determination in the young lad. "It is not unheard of. There have been many dual-phase blades with dual crystals, pole arms that extended to swords, swords that extended to twice their length. But that was mostly due to power input – to put two concurrent blades beside each other, to combine their blades… that is a new one."

He guides the boy towards the hologram table. "Let see what we shall do."

The other children have already begun to working on their blades. The young calamari would have hers down the first, Huyang things, she has the right mindset. The white haired human boy is too impatient; it would take him a while longer. Everyone else fell somewhere in between, but as far as Huyang could tell so far no one was about to blow themselves – or his ship – up with a reversed power flow. Good, good.

This boy would take the longest though.

"What you want done, my young friend, will take some careful calculation," Huyang says and activates the hologram. "Precision and careful design – never mind a small dose of mad genius. But if that is the lightsaber you see in your heart, then…"

"It is," the boy says and lays the crystals on the table, all six of them. They're not all light blue – some of them are darker, older, stronger. Good lightclub crystals. "The core," the boy says and moves the darkest crystal aside. "The side winders," he moves the lightest crystals to the side. "The back blades," another two crystals, which leaves behind only one crystal, another slightly darker one. "And the forward cleaver."

"How curious," Huyang muses and bows down to examine the crystals, pointing at what the boy called the core and the forward cleaver. "These two look like excellent lightclub crystals. Then these two," the back blades, "look more standard – and these," he motions to the sidewinder crystals. "Might make fine shotos."

"Yeah," the boy agrees and looks up. "But they all are supposed to combine to a…" he searches for a right term. "Buster blade."

"How very, very curious," Huyang muses, peering at the boy's face. It almost seems as if his eyes are shining – that same blue azure light of a well made blue lightsaber. They'd all be blue, Huyang thinks. Yes indeed. "If we manage to make this lightsaber of yours without blowing ourselves up, I do believe it will be most unique one I have ever seen constructed." Never mind the _maddest_.

The boy grins and his eyes _glow_.

 

* * *

 

  1. **Connections**



Obi-Wan ends up spending nearly two months on board Architect Huyang's ship, long after everyone else in his Crèche has finished their lightsabers and returned to Coruscant. It doesn't take him quite the longest time _ever_ to finish the thing – according to Huyang there have been Jedi who took years to finish theirs – but it is longest in a long while. By now, after so many centuries, Huyang has the process down pretty well after all, and most lightsabers work the same.

Most don't attempt anything… too outlandish.

"Outlandish, yes, indeed," the ancient droid mutters while puttering around his drawers of lightsaber construction materials. "Entirely utterly outlandish. Now where did I leave it – ah, here."

He brings forth a – thing that Obi-Wan can't quite recognize. It looks a bit like part of a jetpack.

"Long ago, oh, so very long ago, before our power pack technology was near the levels of efficiency it is now, lightsabers had to be powered externally," the droid explains while he sets the enormous power pack down to dig further into the drawer. "You carried your power pack in your back and the lightsaber was connected to it by a tether. Quite unwieldy, you can imagine. It did however give more options with the blades, however, and they came in wildly different shapes and forms. There was even time when Jedi competed with how large and long they could make the blade and – ah, here."

He digs out an ancient looking – handle. And it doesn't look anything like a lightsaber handle – it looks more like...

"Oh," Obi-Wan murmurs as Huyang sets the thing in front of him. It looks a bit like a hammer – a long, long handle, and enormous crossguard. No blade, of course, it is still a lightsaber, but the blade emitter is – enormous.

"One of my older pieces, nearly two thousand years old," Huyang muses with hint of nostalgia. "Never did work right, this thing – expended the power pack within minutes. But I think, perhaps, we can connect the old with the new and make something… different."

Obi-Wan lifts the handle, examining it. It's heavy in his hand, about two, two point two kilograms in total. "Mine will be bigger," Obi-Wan says and swings the hammer-like lightsaber handle in hand. "And heavier."

"No doubt," Huyang agrees and looks down at him. "But that is what you want, is it not?"

Obi-Wan nods and grips the handle with both hands. The grip is all smooth – no activators, no blade controllers, no emitters or suppressors, it's all in the crossguard. The grip itself is just smooth and comfortable in hand.

Like a real sword grip.

Like a _buster sword_ grip.

"Yeah," Obi-Wan agrees, and imagines a blade, not of metal but of light, extending from a familiar crossguard. "Yeah this will work."

 

* * *

 

  1. **Balance**



The blade combiner in the crossguard – it generates its own force field, which will override the magnetic fields of the other blades, combining them into one whole. A stabiliser and magnetic revolver, to make sure all blades will always fit just in the right way around, and the plasma flow will always match – otherwise the blade might just blow up in his face. Magnetic holders for blade handles themselves – because each and every one of them has their own. Two in back, three in front. Master activator, blade strength controller and field emitter also in the crossguard – and a magnetic deactivator for quick release.

It's, even to Obi-Wan's enthralled eyes, utterly ridiculous. The final result of all six handles combined weights nearly seven kilograms and the crossguard handle where every other lightsaber handle will fit is good half a meter in length from the pommel of the handle to the mid activator, and good thirty centimetres wide at the widest point of the crossguard. There was no _pretty_ way to fit the other lightsaber handles in, so it looks a little like the crossguard has fangs… or is falling apart,

It looks a bit like rustic, busted up part of a hyper drive engine, if he's honest. Or maybe a the galaxy's most useless, most ridiculous sledge hammer. He probably could use it as one too, it's so heavy. Huyang actually has to design him a specialised holster to carry it on his back because of how heavy and unwieldy it is.

Obi-Wan _loves_ it.

"Lightsaber is a finesse weapon," Bruck tells him imperiously when Obi-Wan is finally returned to the Jedi Temple in Coruscant, to proudly demonstrate his lightsabers. "Fluid and elegant and efficient. Yours is a _shovel_."

"I know, right?" Obi-Wan asks with a grin, spinning the unlit colossal grip idly in hand. It has a weight! It has momentum and the enormous, tech filled crossguard works perfectly as a ballast – he can spin it by its weight!

"Well turn it on!" Bant says excitedly while everyone else clusters around him. "I want to see!"

Obi-Wan flips the hilt in his hands until it's aimed upwards and then turns the blade, the full combined blade, on.

Twenty four centimes wide, two point five centimetres thick hundred and fifty nine in length, it is the single biggest lightsaber blade seen in the Jedi order for countless of generations. It glows with sharp azure light through out, from the wide crossguard all the way to the slanted tip.

"You idiot," Bruck says, even while staring, wide eyed, same as everyone. "How the hell are you going to fight with that thing? You can't even flip it downwards without cutting the floor apart, it's too damn big! You can never, _ever_ do any lightsaber katas with that monstrosity."

Obi-Wan grins and presses the quick deactivator. The blade shuts down, and the whole handle just breaks apart, into six individual blades which Obi-Wan holds with the Force in air while the main crossguard stays in his hand. He grabs one of the free floating handles, one of the sidewinder blades, and then turns both it and the core crossguard on.

He's left holding a lightclub, its blade thick and almost hundred and twenty centimetres long and round like a normal lightsaber's – and a short shoto blade, with a thin blade that's barely thirty centimetres in length.

"Two lightclubs. Two regular lightsabers. Two shotos," Obi-Wan says with a gleeful grin. "I think you'll find I can do whatever katas I damn well please."

 

* * *

 

  1. **Happiness**



Yoda had to admit that he's been somewhat worried of young Obi-Wan Kenobi. Even outside the visions of a past and the boy's own belief he's someone else reborn, there's been a melancholy edge to the boy's presence for as long as he's been in the Jedi Temple. He carries within him an inexplicable sense loss and grief and sadness which has made him a quiet, confused and often a sad child at times.

He been forever mourning, Yoda thinks, mourning the person he thinks he was, and all the things he thinks he'd lost becoming Obi-Wan Kenobi instead. A dangerous path for any Jedi to go down on, one of loss and grief, but for a child too young to have yet lost anything…

Add that to the fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi is very strong in the Force and it's a very worrying combination. The boy's way of using it and manifesting the Force is unorthodox and often far too emotional – and judging by the frustrated reports from his Crèche Master, his beliefs follow similarly unusual paths. When he uses the Force, there's a feel to it. Sometimes warm, sometimes cold, often electric. Like he's on the brink of manifesting elements, without ever knowing it.

That and the constant sense of _sadness_ … a dangerous combination indeed. Worse yet, the boy is on his way to adolescence now, which will only enforce those emotions, grow them out, make them worse. There is terrible, dark potential to it.

And then… and then the boy comes back from his Gathering after having spent an unusually long time constructing his lightsaber, with a most unusual blade – and overwhelming sense of _happiness_ and _glee_.

"Tricky its construction must have been," Yoda comments, while peering at the unusual lightsaber… crossguard. It's floating in the air in front of him – far too big and heavy to be easily handled by his hand, he's satisfied with the hands off approach to it. And it is very unusual. Young Obi-Wan Kenobi's lightsaber looks… not the most aesthetically sophisticated, but within it has a sense of precise symmetry. It's not pretty, but it is exactly what it should be – it fulfils all the demands of its function.

And young Obi-Wan certainly doesn't seem to care how people look at the thing with confused distaste, how they find it ugly and unwieldy and unnecessarily big. He's just _happy_ with it – not proud, exactly, but like…

"Hmm," Yoda hums, peering at the young initiate – Padawan now, with his lightsaber finished. "Part of yourself you have found in this weapon."

"Yes," Obi-Wan Kenobi says, all but vibrating where he's sitting on his knees, bursting with joy. "This weapon is _my life_."

And he means it too with every fibre of his being, in a way most Jedi do not until years and years into their careers, into many battles with a lightsaber as their only ally. Obi-Wan Kenobi both put his soul into this weapon – and found it in it.

"Hmm," Yoda hums again and then sends the massive, unwieldy handle back to the boy. "Much growing you have to do, to catch up with your weapon," he says and watches how Kenobi accepts his weapon back, in steady, comfortable two handed grip. "Long way there is to go yet. Beginning this only is."

The boy breathes and rests his forehead against the wide crossguard for a moment and smiles. "Yes. I'm ready," he says, content.

 

* * *

 

  1. **Reminders**



Obi-Wan is swinging the unlit lightsaber – bustersaber? Lightbuster? He needs to figure out a different name for it, lightsaber doesn't quite cut it – when he feels a presence behind him. Familiar, calm, observant – and half forgotten.

"You weren't in Ilum," he says out loud, swinging the crossguard, imagining the blade there. The fully assembled blade doesn't have a safe setting, not really – he can turn the power input down so that it's not strong enough to cut, but it's still hot enough to burn so it's not safe to practice with yet.

" _Too many memories_ ," a calm voice answers. " _Of all of us I lived the longest and so lost the most. It hurts to go back there_."

It said simply and without much emotion, but with weight that makes Obi-Wan turn and look.

There's a shimmering figure lying on the floor behind him, a Firecat with the end of his tail lit in glow of Force – of Lifestream. Nanaki.

"Ilum is –?" Obi-Wan asks. "But Aerith said she died."

" _She did. All that remains is the ice and the crystals, now_ ," Nanaki says and settles his paws down, one or the other. " _And even they have lost their memories. It's nice that people have use for them again_."

For a while Obi-Wan just looks at him while the part of him that's Cloud Strife slumps in defeat. "Kyber is... I see," he murmurs and looks at his buster lightsaber crossguard – the six blades within it, the six different lightsabers. "I didn't know that but I guess it makes sense. Were all worlds with Kyber like ours, once?"

" _More or less_ ," Nanaki muses. " _Not that many were as strong as ours though. It has something to do with evolution of life. Worlds with kyber evolved life naturally – worlds without were terraformed and colonised. Of course... it takes death of a world to form kyber. Like it takes death to form materia_."

"So, Force to Lifestream, Lifestream to mako, mako to materia and... materia to kyber," Obi-Wan says with a frown, turning the crossguard in his hands.

" _It's not exactly a linear process, but more or less...Yes_ ," Nanaki agrees and looks at him. " _How are you holding up_?"

"Better with this," Obi-Wan says, swinging the crossguard. "Makes even more sense now that I know it's literally little piece of home."

" _You knew that before_ ," the spirit comments. " _Same as the rest of us. You don't remember being dead, do you_?"

"I don't remember everything about being alive either," Obi-Wan admits and holds the crossguard in front of him, picturing the blade and then swinging. There is a slight... _something_ that might've been a whisper of a Braver.

Nanaki is quiet for a while, watching him train. " _Do you want to remember_?"

Obi-Wan shifts back to a forward guard pose and considers it. He already remembers a lot, sometimes more than he'd like. He remembers mako and tanks and being run through by the same damn sword, again and again. He remembers losing people, losing Aerith, far too soon.

"I think I'm fine doing it at my own pace," Obi-Wan says finally and throws his friend an awkward smile. "Last time I tried to force it, it didn't go down too well, did it?"

" _Not really, no_ ," Nanaki agrees, flicking his tail.

"Yeah," Obi-Wan agrees and turns back to training. "Well at least this time there's no world in terrible peril to be saved."

Nanaki doesn't answer, just watches him sombre and serious.

 

* * *

 

  1. **Transport**



There are other things they're taught of course. Being a Jedi isn't just about swinging a lightsaber and communing with the Force – they have a job, a duty, and that duty requires a certain skill set. Languages, history, politics, diplomacy, social decorum...

Piloting a variety of spaceships.

The more specified branches of the Jedi Order teach more specific skills – like in the Halls of Healing where Padawans learn to mend injuries and alleviate illnesses or the Agricultural Corps where Jedi learn to grow plants with the Force in ways that remind Obi-Wan of the Ancients. Who knows, maybe that was how the Ancients did it in the first place – no one could deny that by today's standards Aerith would have been one of the strongest Force sensitives in eons.

Piloting at least the most basic spaceships they all have to learn, though. Astronomy, Stellar Mechanics, Star Navigation... all the good stuff that tends to fly right past Obi-Wan's head.

"I thought we had droids for this," he mutters while trying to again make it through the pre-flight check in the simulation.

"Sometimes you don't – sometimes your ship has issues or you're forced to contend with a ship that isn't yours," the Crèche Master says. "A Jedi must be prepared for every eventuality. Now try again – this time without hitting the throttle first if you will."

In the back Bruck lets out a snicker and he's not the only one. Obi-Wan sends a glare at the blond, transparent man cackling in the background.

"If you think it's so funny, how about you try," Obi-Wan's mutters and resets the switches.

" _Love to, Spiky, but alas, hands_ ," Cid says and wiggles his see through fingers. " _What I wouldn't give to pilot one of these babies though. Space flight's come such long way since my heyday. Wrong switch, by the way – that's the brake flaps_."

Obi-Wan mutters a curse and hits the switch again to turn the flaps back down. Why is Cid here anyway? He can go anywhere in the Galaxy he wants, he's part of the Force – why bother him now when he's trying to figure this stupid thing out? If he wants to fly he could, damn well go and just fly.

" _It's just not the same_ ," Cid sighs. " _Also you're best entertainment we've had in eons – wrong switch again, though you're getting warmer – that's the hyper flight stabiliser. You'll never get off ground with that on_."

"Ugh," Obi-Wan answers and turns it off too.

Cid chuckles and leans onto the cockpit. " _Almost sounds like you don't want to fly a spaceship_ ," he says. " _What the hell is wrong with you? You get to explore the galaxy and shit – I'd die for the chance. Actually think I did, too_."

Obi-Wan squeezes the control sticks and thinks of Jenova and the Meteor and coming crashing down back to the Planet on Cid's shuttle. Space is a place of horrors and monsters and no, he doesn't particularly enjoy the idea of exploring it with nothing but few layers of steel between him and a deadly vacuum. Especially since he has no idea how to pilot the damn thing!

Cid looks at him and sighs. " _The clear switch on the right,_ " he says and points. " _Closes the ship hatches – you don't want to take off with the front door left wide open, trust me. Once it lights green, you hit that one there and then that one – inertial dampeners and artificial gravity. Without them you turn into some Cloudy mush on launch_..."

Grumbling the whole way, Obi-Wan follows his direction to the letter and manages to get not only through the pre-flight but into space without blowing his simulated ship up, if just barely. Spaceflight is definitely not his strongest suit.

He utterly aces mounted travel though.

 

* * *

 

  1. **Vincent**



" _Has it been worth it_?"

Obi-Wan startles from his half sleep to find a shadow looming over him. The moment of ensuing panic is soothed by a familiar presence and he lets out a sigh, slow and frustrated. The shadow waits.

"I don't know yet," Obi-Wan admits. "It's not worse but I'm still young and nothing much happens in the Temple here. It's not what I was expecting, I don't think I planned on being a Force sensitive or a Jedi, but... it's not worse."

Not that he really remembers what it was like, to be dead and Part of the Lifestream, the Force. Just this sensation of not-peace and thoughts endlessly circling in a whirlpool of regret. He'd never been able to let himself go – not after having his identity ripped apart too many times in life, maybe. He'd hung onto himself and his mistakes and been just generally unhappy.

" _Hmm_ ," Vincent answers.

"Are you thinking about trying it too?" Obi-Wan asks, making a face. Vincent had never felt particularly happy in Force either. He thinks too much about would-have-beens and could-have-beens.

" _Maybe_ ," Vincent admits. " _Not yet though_."

"Well we do have all the time on the universe, I guess," Obi-Wan says slowly, watching him. "You'd make one hell of a Jedi."

Vincent gives him a look. " _I wouldn't become one,_ " he says wryly.

"No? Why not?"

" _This training you're going through, this... institution your part of_ ," Vincent says and shakes his head. " _There are aspects about it I do not agree with. I don't think I could stomach being part of it_."

Obi-Wan frowns a little and then sits up on his bed. "Yeah," he agrees and looks at the simulated window his room has – which shows a view of Coruscant skyline as if his room was on the higher levels and against an outer wall. It isn't, but for mental health reasons all windowless cells in the Temple have simulated windows.

The Jedi Order is based on system of indoctrination. It's for a good reason but still a little bit creepy when you think about it.

"I don't know if it's a choice you can easily make, though," Obi-Wan comments. "We're born Force sensitive – I don't think that's something you can just turn off. And the Jedi Order has ways of finding Force sensitive children."

" _They don't find all of them_ ," Vincent says. " _They don't look everywhere. I think I can figure it out_."

Obi-Wan nods slowly and then turns to him. "When?" he asks. Vincent hasn't been around much and it's always a bit awkward when he is but the idea of losing him...

It is a big galaxy, after all. And whether he agrees with all the tenets of the Jedi or nor, Obi-Wan is one and as one he's bound by their duties. Chances of him ever seeing Vincent in life in a galaxy of quadrillions of sentient people....

" _Not yet_ ," Vincent says and reaches out to lay his gold covered hand on top of his short hair. " _Not in a while yet_."

 

* * *

 

  1. **Combat**



"Bow and begin."

Obi-Wan bows, trying to desperately hide how utterly, shamelessly gleeful he feels. Not only is he against a seasoned Master now, one of the best fighters in the Jedi Order – but he's been finally, _finally_ given the chance and permission to use the full blade in a sparring match.

Against the other Padawans it's always shotos or the normal length lightsabers – he can't even use the lightclubs, not even against his instructors, they're too dangerous apparently... Well there is no apparently about it, they are. But that's left him with katas and practice droids alone and though he has pretty much all of Cloud Strife's memories of fighting with large swords and he knows he can use them... knowledge is different from experience.

And he wants to fight at his fullest. It's what he lives for.

Giddy, Obi-Wan takes his lightsaber, the crossguard fully assembled, and then lights it. There is a whoosh of breaths and murmurs coming from the audience – and there is quite bit of audience – before the anticipatory silence falls again. The Master at the other end of the fighting ring gauges his stance and then takes out a lightsaber cylinder – and then another, and another, and another. He lights them all, simultaneously and theatrically and Obi-Wan lets loose his grin.

Master Krell is huge, three meters tall and taller, and in each of his massive hands he has a lightclub – a full array of four, all of them lit. They look like they attach to staffs too.

This is going to be amazing, Obi-Wan decides, while the Besalisk Jedi across from him takes a stance, two lightclubs in defence, two held ready for an attack. And then Obi-Wan attacks, rushing at the Master with his blade swinging to the side, ready for a swipe. It's met with not only one lightclub but two, the sound of the massive blades meeting like thunder, and from his other side another glowing comes at him, to get at his seemingly vulnerable side.

Obi-Wan laughs, delighted, and breaks his blade apart, taking the front cleaver out and leaving himself holding with the nearly fully assembled full blade in his right hand – and a lightclub in another.

"Oh, very good," Master Krell says as their blades meet. "Very versatile. Now watch closely, boy, I will show you how to fight with lightclubs."

"No," Obi-Wan says with glee because finally, finally he can go all out. "I'll show you how to fight with _great blades._ "

And all out he goes. He uses everything he has against Krell, his speed and agility and small stature, the weight of his lightsaber which even against Krell's clubs is considerable – and decades and decades worth of fighting experience from life and world gone by. He uses the Force to bolster his strength where he once had mako and he slams against Krell, again and again and again.

It's glorious. Not quite up there with some of the most desperate, most historic fights Cloud Strife had had, but it's definitely closest he's gotten in this life.

"Aggressive, crude, brutish," Krell pronounces after he's quite literally beaten Obi-Wan to the floor. "Very basic style you have, boy, but not much you can do about that – there's no lightsaber style in this galaxy that will work with that monster of a lightsaber of yours."

"Yes, Master Krell," Obi-Wan agrees, grinning wildly at the ceiling above him.

"We need to do this again sometime," Krell says and nods. "You'll make an interesting opponent yet, once you've got few more years of growth in you."

Obi-Wan looks up. "You – I thought," he says and quickly hops to his feet. "I mean –"

"No, you're not going to be my Padawan Learner," Krell says and picks up Obi-Wan's crossguard from the floor. He examines it with interest. "It's heavier than I thought."

"Seven point zero four kilograms," Obi-Wan agrees. "If you're not going to be my Master, who...?"

"That I don't know. It's up to the Grandmaster," Krell says and hands the crossguard back. "It will be interesting seeing what becomes of you, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written mostly and posted from phone so, sorry about spelling stuff


	3. Chapter 3

  1. **Loss**



The euphoria of the lightbuster fades eventually. It fades with Master after master looking over to him and then looking away, it fades with training matches where he isn't allowed to use the full blade, it fades with Bruck Chun, cackling in the background when another Master comments that, "Training with that saber will be… difficult."

When Master Krell had said it, _It's up to the Grandmaster_ he'd some how made it sound like maybe Master Yoda had denied his request to take Obi-Wan up, but maybe that hadn't been after all – maybe Krell, like every other Master and Knight who had peered in on Obi-Wan since, simply didn't want to bother with him.

Obi-Wan is already the top of his class, better than some of the Senior Padawans, when it comes to lightsaber combat. Sure, he might not be able to use the fully assembled blade, but he has a wide range of other options and the frustration of not being able to fight how he _wants to_ only empowers him. He masters single wielding, dual wielding and even fashions a way to turn the shoto blades into a short light staff to add in a little flair. His style, though…

The whole concept of conforming to a single lightsaber style is kind of beyond him. He would rather just learn _all of it_. And if he can't learn all of it, then he will damn well learn how to match all of it when it's against him.

"Jack of all trades, Master of none," someone tells him, and it's hard to say whether it's an insult or not. It sounds like one. As does the comments of, "Very excitable," and, "So emotional," and, worst of all, "Enjoys fighting with childlike glee." That one is just outright reproval, there.

"I'm not worried," Obi-Wan tells Bant, while meeting her slightly timid blows with twin-shoto guards. "I don't really care if no one takes me up – I can manage on my own."

"Can you, though?" she asks worriedly.

Padawan without a Master can't become a Knight, though. It takes years of field experience to make it to Jedi Knight, it takes trials and tribulations and all that. You can't get that in the temple. Padawans without masters become healers and librarians and archivists and occasionally gardeners and farmers and lab technicians. They do not become knights, they don't become warriors.

And Obi-Wan is a warrior through and through.

"If I have to," Obi-Wan mutters and catches her blade between his shotos, spinning it away from himself. "There's been Masterless Padawans who became Knights. You can work your way up to it, all you need is to complete a – a whole bunch of solo missions and get the experience the hard way"

"Yeah, but that centuries ago," she says and gives him a pointed look while taking a front guard pose again. "Padawans aren't given missions like that anymore, though, not unless they have a Master. At most we're given chores and errands in Coruscant."

 Obi-Wan sets his feet, both physically and mentally, and stands his ground. "I'll do it," he says. "I'll figure it out if I have to."

He just… kinda hoped he wouldn't have to.

* * *

 

  1. **Independence**



"He's too…" Qui-Gon trails away, frowning.

Down in the training salle, a young Padawan is working against four training droids, a massive, heavy hilted lightsaber in his right hand, and a light club in another. He's got a blindfold on and is weaving through the rain of weak laserbolts with – well, not quite grace. It looks more like mad, wild flailing, how the boy throws the weight of his weapons around, deflecting the bolts every which way.

He's not being hit, true. He's reflecting the bolts, true. There is skill and precision in his movements and he is obviously very perceptive in the force. Never mind physically strong. It's not just visibly obvious – the boy's arms are bare and the muscle definition is clearly visible, and it's there obviously due to the massive lightsaber.

Qui-Gon had heard the thing weighed guide a bit. Certainly more than the standard half-kilogram maximum of a regular lightsaber. Wielding that thing around would by its nature enhance the boy's physical strength by leaps and bounds.

"Strong in the Force is he," Yoda comments beside him, leaning both hands into his gimmer stick. "Unorthodox, yes. Excitable, perhaps. Some beliefs he has that the Masters of his old Crèche troubling find."

"You're not really selling this child to me," Qui-Gon says wryly and folds his arms, eying the boy's form. It's not like any lightsaber form he's seen – because it's not. He'd seen Obi-Wan Kenobi fight with the shotos and normal length lightsabers – the boy knows his forms and can switch between them with speed that is remarkable considering his lack of experience. But here, with these heavy weapons, it all flies out of the window.

"Strong in the Force is he," Yoda says again, frowning a little. "And a powerful warrior is he. Set him aside we cannot – to a support position, he will never fit. A knight he will be – or leave the Jedi Order he will."

Qui-Gon frowns, glancing at him. "That's really not a point to his favour," he says slowly. "You think his attachment to the Order that thin?"

"Independent is he. Need us he does not. Survive anywhere he could, thrive he could. But a Jedi he should be," Yoda says. "Know of his visions, do you?"

Qui-Gon shakes his head.

"A past life he sees," Yoda says and smiles a little. "Strong influence it has on him. From it strength of character he draws."

For a moment Qui-Gon says nothing, turning his eyes back to Obi-Wan Kenobi. A past life? Yoda wouldn't have mentioned it if he didn't believe it, so he must think it's true. "You think he is… what, a reincarnation?" he asks slowly.

"A great warrior he was," Yoda says, and glance up at him, a little bit sly now. "And remember it he does. Strong in the Force is he and strong was he, in his past life."

Qui-Gon hums and runs a hand over his chin. Now that… that is something else, isn't it? And if he's not entirely mistaken… Obi-Wan Kenobi was that little initiate, who once upon a time talked to ethereal voice over a pond in the Room of Thousand Fountains, a voice that came from Force itself.

Qui-Gon takes the boy in again, this time a little closer.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is not a very graceful creature. He has discarded the tunics of a Padawan and is wearing only a single tabard, bound around his waist by his obi and utility belt and around his vest by the slanted straps of his lightsaber holster, which settles between his shoulder blades, an angular piece of metal. His movements are wide and wild but precise – he knows what he's doing, it's only his body holding him back. His young, still small, body.

What kind of Jedi would he make, with care and dedication? And if Yoda is right…

"How very interesting," Qui-Gon murmurs, and ignores the smug satisfaction radiating from the old Grandmaster.

* * *

 

  1. **Alien**



Obi-Wan looks up as a Master slides to sit on his knees in front of him. He knows the man – everyone knows the Maverick Jedi Knight. His exploits are pretty regularly used as examples on _how to not do things_ as a Jedi Knight. Even if it works. Some things just shouldn't be done, apparently.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Qui-Gon Jinn says.

"Master Jinn," Obi-Wan answers hesitantly and after one last pass with a cloth over the hilt, he clips the crossguard back to his back slowly. His weapon tends to get a bit sweatier than most Jedi's lightsabers do, so he tends to wipe it down after every training session. "Is… there something I can do for you?"

"Master Yoda tells me you believe yourself to be a reincarnation."

Obi-Wan leans back a little. It doesn't sound like judgement or rebuttal, but the way Master Jinn words it… "What of it?" he asks and rests his hands on his knees.

The Master eyes him for a moment. "Tell me about it."

"Why?"

"Because I asked," the Master says calmly and gives him a look.

Obi-Wan narrows his eyes. Every time this has come up before, people have told him to keep his attention to the present. Even if they agree that it is _strange_ that he sees _visions_ of the same man, they never entertain the thought that he himself was that man, once upon a time. No, he's obviously seeing someone else, not himself, he's just confused. No one can retain their minds and memories after death like that. No one can be… reborn like that. It's selfish and arrogant to even suggest it.

And this is a Jedi Master. A Master who everyone knows ought to take an apprentice soon. Looking on him… Master Jinn is probably just looking for a new excuse to decline him.

"No," Obi-Wan says and looks down at his knees. He's been declined enough many times because his flaws – he won't let Cloud Strife become one of them. "I'm to keep my mind in here and now."

Jinn arches a single eyebrow and leans back a little. "That's what everyone tells you."

Obi-Wan doesn't say anything.

"If you are a reincarnation of a person in the past, who lived and died who knows how many years ago…" Qui-Gon says. "That would make you a _very_ worrying individual. To hold your will and sentience after death is bad enough but to choose to live again. That's… immortality."

Obi-Wan closes his eyes. "There is no death, there is the Force," he says after a moment and means _there is no Void – there is the Lifestream._

"Hmm," Qui-Gon Jinn answers. "I am not judging you, Obi-Wan, but I do want to hear this. How is it possible, that you are a reincarnation? How did you hold onto your will after death?"

Obi-Wan opens his eyes and looks up. Master Jinn doesn't look judgemental. He doesn't look… disbelieving. He looks thoughtful and impassive. "Where he came from, everyone did – everyone who chose to," he says. "It was a world of Force Sensitives – everyone there had it. After death, everyone… joined this mass of Force within the planet. The Lifestream. That was the way of the Lifestream – it was where life went and from where life came from in that world."

Qui-Gon narrows his eyes. "Where is this world?"

Obi-Wan looks down. He knows better to say _it's what you call Ilum_ now. Ilum is a sacred world to the Jedi. To even imply something like that… "It's dead now," he settles on saying. "It died thousands and thousands of years ago. Tens of thousands probably, I don't… know for sure."

Qui-Gon Jinn leans back, running his fingers over his beard thoughtfully. "There are… stories about sect of Force users, the Force Priestesses on a world called the Wellspring of Life," he says then, suddenly. "It is said to be a world that is so strong in the Force that it's alive, and the Force Priestesses are said to be people who held onto their memories and individuality… after death."

Obi-Wan blinks and looks up. "Oh," he says, eyes widening.

Qui-Gon Jinn smiles a little. "I have never seen it, but the stories persist, if you know where to look for them," he says and stands up. "I search for those stories. And I would very much like to hear more about your world, too," he says then and holds out his hands. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, would you like to be my Padawan Learner?"

* * *

 

  1. **Satisfying**



There'd been a part of Obi-Wan – or maybe part of Cloud – that hadn't dared to believe. He isn't anyone's first pick, after all, he's never really been. He's awkward and too much at times and little too set in ancient ways that he knows to the Jedi seem not so much strange as they seem _primitive_ at times. He's just… awkward.

Part of him had looked into past, the way Cloud Strife had all his life been brushed aside until he emerged from that green poison as someone else, as pale imitation of a much likeable Zack Fair, and even then he wasn't quite good enough. Aerith had wanted more of Zack in him, Tifa had wanted more of the Cloud she remembered, and Cloud hadn't been able to be either, not really.

His identity had, for such a long time, started and ended with _sword_. He'd leaned on it and relief on it and let it lead him until it became part of him and he found something else than old dreams and _Zack_ in it, but still… still he wasn't what people wanted. Not really.

And Obi-Wan Kenobi is too much like Cloud Strife to be any more likeable. He hadn't thought anyone would pick him.

Qui-Gon had picked him not for who he was but what he was. He's not sure how he likes it. It means he will one day get the chance of becoming a Jedi knight – he will get all the experience required at his Master's side and _that_ at least sounds to him like a dream come true. He will _get somewhere_ with this. But Qui-Gon wanted him not because of his personality or his abilities or anything of the sort. But because he was a reincarnation.

Another person who looked at him – and saw what he could have been and might have been, and not what he is. That stings, a little.

But that's life.

Obi-Wan spends that evening looking through his belongings, what little he owns. It's not much, really. Couple of training sabres which he should return to the Crèche. Manuals on lightsaber forms. Tunics he doesn't think he will ever use if he can choose – he prefers to go sleeveless. He doesn't have toys like some initiates and Padawans do, and he hasn't any mementos from his home world – he doesn't even know what world he'd been born, now that he thinks about it. Is the name Obi-Wan his original name, or had the Jedi Order renamed him? He's not sure.

It doesn't really matter.

All he needs his sword, he decides. His lightbuster. With that, he has anything he needs. With that and a path to follow, a future of Jedi Knight to look forward to… he can be satisfied. He's never gotten everything he wanted from life – it's dumb to start expecting it now.

" _Still not happy, are you_ ," Aerith whispers in the back of his mind.

"Getting there," Obi-Wan says and tightens the straps across his chest. The lightbuster hilt peeks over his shoulder and its weight settles comfortably between his shoulder blades. It's not quite the old familiar weight of nearly fifty kilograms of metal that Cloud Strife had to rely on, but… "Yeah. This is fine."

If nothing else, there'd probably be more fighting in his future. As Padawan Learner of an active Knight and a Master, he would end up in the thick of it sooner or later. That at least he can look forward to.

"This is just fine," Obi-Wan says with a nod and turns to leave, to join his new Master, to start his journey down on the path of Jedi.

* * *

 

  1. **Learning**



Qui-Gon Jinn likes tea – Obi-Wan likes caff. Qui-Gon is an early riser – Obi-Wan is a night owl. Qui-Gon prefers to wear full set of Jedi robes and tunics – Obi-Wan wears neither. Qui-Gon uses the standard simple Jedi boots – the first credits Obi-Wan accumulates he uses on heavier, thick soled hiking boots. Qui-Gon prefers to settle disputes with words – Obi-Wan with swords.

The only thing that really connects them is Obi-Wan's still short Padawan braid and unorthodox views about the Force.

"Not the Living Force, that's just – just splitting hairs. All Force is the same, it all comes from the same thing. Living things," Obi-Wan says and makes a circular motion with his hand. "It's created by everything that lives and grows – and used by everything that lives and grows. Literally life Force of everything."

"What about the Dark side?" Qui-Gon asks, stroking his beard.

"I don't think it's a thing, honestly."

Qui-Gon's eyebrows lift slightly at that. "Explain, please."

"I think it just intent," Obi-Wan shrugs. "You use the Force in anger and hate and of course it comes out angry and hateful. Force amplifies your own emotions, so the angrier you get, the easier it is to get angry with Force around. Easier to lose your kriffin mind. But that's just on you – the Force isn't making you do it, it isn't one or the other, it's just… the Force."

"Hmm," Qui-Gon hums, watching him closely. "What about sites of Dark Side, where corrupted Force resides and infects everything? They are well documented, young one, you can't deny their existence."

"Well, no. But decay is just a natural process of life too. Disease, sickness, viruses, scavenger organisms, hunters – they're all living things too," Obi-Wan shrugs. "It's all the same. And what you put into the Force naturally affects it. So, decayed and corrupted creatures will put out decayed and corrupted Force."

"Is that not the Dark Side?" Qui-Gon asks amusedly.

Obi-Wan frowns at that. "Not how Jedi teach it," he says. "You say Dark Side corrupts, that Dark Side will dominate your life if you let it. I don't think that's real – that's just pushing blame from individuals to some cosmic entity and it's the entity that I don't believe in."

"So if Dark Side isn't real, why do people turn?"

"Because they do," Obi-Wan says and shrugs again, looking away. "Because of ambition or greed or anger or downright madness, whatever. It's not a corruption by some unstoppable Cosmic Evil – it's a choice."

"So you deny the existence of evil," Qui-Gon muses.

"As universal… _concept_ , yes. There's just people and the choices they make. And sometimes those choices are evil ones, sometimes they influenced by other people – but it's still people who choose. Not undeniable cosmic absolutes."

Qui-Gon hums thoughtfully. "Was this teaching common in your past life?"

"Yeah. We called it _common sense_."

"Cheeky," Qui-Gon says not quite managing to sound admonishing. "And little bit heretical."

"I don't think you're supposed to sound pleased about it, Master."

* * *

 

  1. **Dream**



Qui-Gon wakes up in a field of flowers. It's definitely not where he went to bed in, but he doesn't feel alarm or unease. He knows these flowers. They grow in the Room of Thousand Fountains in the Jedi Temple in Coruscant. The mysterious white lilies, the origins of which still is something of a mystery to the Temple gardeners.

This is a dream, he decides, just as a hand rests on his shoulder. "Wake up, Master."

The words are familiar but the voice echoes strangely. Looking up Qui-Gon sees his student – but not, at the same time. It's like seeing in double, only the two images are superimposed over each other. Obi-Wan Kenobi blending into an older, taller figure, with lopsided blond hair and glowing blue eyes.

The Original Incarnation.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon says and knows – dream or not, this is real. "What is this?"

"Aerith," the two people in one answer and hold out their hands to pull him up.

"And what is an Aerith?" Qui-Gon asks as he's pulled up with surprising strength.

"I am an Aerith," a female voice chuckles. "I am the Aerith even. The one and only."

Qui-Gon turns and meets the soft green eyes of a young woman. She… doesn't look like a spirit or a manifestation of the Force – but at the same time, she does, she feels like all of it and more. She feels… like the Force.

"You haven't pulled me here in awhile," Qui-Gon's Padawan says. "What's up?"

"This one is," the woman, Aerith, says and looks up at Qui-Gon. "Boy, you are a tall one. You didn't think I'd just let you have my Cloudy-one, just like that, hm?"

Qui-Gon blinks, looking between the woman and his Padawan while the latter sighs heavily. "Aerith."

"Shush and let me fuss," she smiles and then rests her hands at her hips and looks up at Qui-Gon. "I've gone through such a hassle keeping Cloud all upright and standing. I don't know you, Qui-Gon Jinn – how do I know you're going to be good for him?"

Qui-Gon blinks at her with surprise and glances at his Padawan who is sighing again. "What does the Force tell you?" he asks then, turning back to the woman.

"Nuh-uh," the woman says and wiggles a finger at him. "Future isn't set in stone. You mean well but meaning well and doing good, those are two different trees growing on very different fields. I don't want your faith – I want your _word_."

Qui-Gon's eyebrows rise a little. "My word means more than my character?"

"Actions shape nature," she says and glances at Qui-Gon's Padawan. "Decisions make character. And I want you to choose. Are you going to choose your actions – or are you going to let fate run its course?"

For a moment the words seem to sit heavy in the air between them, loaded with meaning, with momentous significance. Qui-Gon thinks of what he'd discussed with Obi-Wan – about choices versus fated darkness. Actions and choices versus destiny.

Qui-Gon would like to believe in destiny – and he does he believes in the Will of the Force. But he doesn't believe in predestination any more than Obi-Wan does. Future is determined by the present – not by cosmic design. And the present… is determined by actions and choices of those that live in it.

"I will do as I must," Qui-Gon says, "to do right by those under my care."

The long haired young woman and the unspeakably powerful entity embodied within her searches his answer and smiles. "Good choice."

* * *

 

  1. **Pets**



There is something Qui-Gon learns to rely on very quickly. If a creature is large enough to be ridden, Obi-Wan will figure out how tame it and ride it. It's not even a point of pride or arrogance for the boy – it isn't that he will see a creature and decide he simply must dominate it, no. It will simply happen.

It goes a little against all Obi-Wan Kenobi outwardly stands for, in his usually warrior like disposition. He seems to outwardly have no patience at all, a creature of action through and through – and yet, Qui-Gon keeps finding himself surprised by how just methodical and patient he can be, when it comes to non-sentient beasts of burden.

Or it could be just that he's not that terribly good with people and it offers him an excuse to avoid them.

"You know as my Padawan you're going to have to deal with quite bit of diplomacy and negotiations," Qui-Gon comments, folding his hands into his sleeves. "The duties of a Jedi aren't just about excitement and fighting and adventures – we are peacekeepers and lot of that is settling disputes. And I am a Jedi Consular. I can't have my Padawan constantly hiding away in the stables."

Obi-Wan sighs and leans against the rancor looking monstrosity he'd made friends with. "I'm not good with people, Master," he mutters. "You know that."

"Well it's a high time you learn, then, isn't it?" Qui-Gon says pointedly. "I know you don't particularly enjoy socialising but it is a skill you need. I can teach it to you, if you will only be present enough to let me."

The boy sighs even heavier. "Do I have to pretend to like it?" He asks almost plaintively.

"No – but you will be attentive, polite and active in conversation," Qui-Gon says, amused and looks at the beast beside his Padawan. It's all but purring as Obi-Wan scratches its side. "What is that thing anyway?"

"I have no idea, Master," Obi-Wan admits and pats the beast's side. "I think it likes me."

"Everything likes you, Padawan – which makes the fact that you don't like anything all that much sadder," Qui-Gon sighs.

"That's not true. I like some things."

"Weapons and dangerous predators don't count – or dead people" Qui-Gon says wryly. "Name one living person whose company you honestly, genuinely enjoy."

Obi-Wan thinks about it for a moment and then looks at him. "Now you're just fishing for compliments, Master," he says and turns away.

Qui-Gon sighs and shakes his head. "Well it's a start," he muses and smiles at the way Obi-Wan all but flees, embarrassed by that little admission alone. Somehow, under all of his strength and confidence, Qui-Gon's Padawan is actually very shy.

It's rather endearing.

**Author's Note:**

> Well.


End file.
